Cheater
by zabeth0322
Summary: Sifting through her glove department, she found a weapon that she would normally only use in self-defense. No, not her mallet. That would come later. Warning: ASH-BASHING! Don't like it don't read. Songfic to 'Before He Cheats'


Before He Cheats is by Ms. Underwood, a winner of American Idol. This is an Ash-bash. Don't like, don't read. Been wanting to write one for ages… I just don't like Ash. So if YOU do, then don't bother reading. It's got quite a bit of girl power and the last bit is my favorite. Word says that my total editing time is 48 minutes, but I'm notorious for leaving windows open for no real reason.

On another note: I received a review on a songfic before saying that it was all basically just what the song was saying and that there was nothing original. When I tried to fix that (Don't Be Surprised) I received no reviews on how that really worked out. I know this one is also very much song-driven, but I feel that this is a good match in that it doesn't stray from the song (as DBS did at times) and it doesn't have single liners between lyrics (Just the Girl). Please let me know if it's a good mix so I may make better songfics in the future. Thanks. :)

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**"Before He Cheats"**

This was it. The last time that she would take this kind of neglect from him. Misty set her jaw as she scanned the emails on Ash's computer. She smiled sardonically at the latest message from one "cheercheergalXO". It showed a picture of a scantily clad blonde woman on a bed sucking her thumb. How lovely. Misty gagged.

**Right now, he's probably slow dancing with a bleach blonde tramp and she's probably getting frisky...**

As she continued to scan through the messages, she began to think back on all the reasons she began to date Ash Ketchum.

**Right now, he's probably buying her some fruity little drink 'cause she can't shoot whiskey...**

She came up with nothing. Closing the files, she stood up, grabbed her leather jacket off the chair, and picked up her keys.

**Right now, he's probably up behind her with a pool-stick, showing her how to shoot a combo...**

Misty wondered to herself how she was taking this offense without so much as one tear. Ash had made her cry before by ignoring her and hitting on other women in her presence. Why was this any different?

**Right now, she's probably up singing some white-trash version of Shania karaoke…**

Ah, she thought as she pressed the gas when the light in front of her glowed green. She doesn't care for him the she used to. She had just been too blind to see that he had reached that conclusion long before her.

**Right now, she's probably saying "I'm drunk" and he's a thinking that he's gonna get lucky…**

It was somewhat crazy to Misty to believe that Ash, the boy who barely knows anything about training Pokemon, his _profession_, and who knows only luck and stubbornness, had seen this before her. Misty felt more vindictive with this new found knowledge that Ash had most likely been stringing her along because _she_ **did** know something about training and battling. In fact, if she had the right team (even almost) equal to his team's level, she could decimate him on the battle field.

**Right now, he's probably dabbing on 3 dollars worth of that bathroom polo...**

After the drive to a nearby pub, one that Ketchum said he "would never be caught dead in". She parked after she spotted a familiar car that her so-called boyfriend christened "my baby-joy".**  
**

Sifting through her glove department, she found a weapon that she would normally only use in self-defense. No, not her mallet. That would come later.

**And he don't know...**

In a righteous fury, she slammed the door shut and marched towards the sports car. She came up behind it, absorbed the flawless paint job, and walked lazily along the side, her copied car key digging languid lines into the perfect paint job.

After opening the driver's door, she took the key and slashed into the new-smelling leather. On each seat, she whittled one letter. Driver's was M, passenger's was I, and the back seat bore S, T and Y. On the seat cushions, she carved various illicit words that would warrant a whole year's worth of soap if they ever crossed her lips.

**That I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped up 4 wheel drive,  
carved my name into his leather seats...**

Setting her jaw, Misty exited the ripped interior. The key was pocketed and a pistol replaced it. It contained only blanks, as Misty would never intend to truly hurt anyone, but when pressed serenely to the glass of the car's lights, the blanks suddenly became more destructive.

Two shots later, broken glass glittered from the parking lot pavement. The obnoxious noise of music and pool tables from the pub covered the shots well enough.

Misty unsheathed a pocketknife attached to her set of keys and calmly slit long scores into each of the four tires. Then she popped the trunk and slit the spare.

**I took a Louisville slugger to both headlights,  
slashed a hole in all 4 tires...**

Misty sauntered away from the car, the pub, and from Ash. Lifting the key above her shoulder, she smugly hit the panic button.

**Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats.**


End file.
